a mutant? unfinished
by Billi
Summary: Colt was just told that he's a mutant. This is only the beginning... depending on the responses, I might keep going or give up. please r&r!


This can't be true. It's impossible. But it does make sense, a voice in the back of my head told me. No, it's a lie and I'm not going to believe it, I decided. They were looking at me with unsure looks. I calmed myself enough to put on a look of indifference, so that they wouldn't know what I was thinking, that my heart and brain were racing beyond belief. 

"How did you guys know? I mean, how could it haven't taken you my whole life to tell me this?" I questioned with anger in my voice. Dad caught the tone and glared at me. I looked down, avoiding his evil gaze.

"It's none of your business, Colt!"

"Well, then, I'm gonna head up to my room for a little while," I told them, just to get away from them and their lies.

"It's true, though. What we told you, you have to believe it; you know we won't lie to you," he told me, as though he was scanning my brain and reading my thoughts. I just nodded and walked away from the table and, when I was out of sight, I ran up the stairs into my room, slammed my door and jumped onto my bed, burying my head in the pilllows so that I could think straight.

"A mutant? They have to be lying. I mean, it's not like I'm an animal with a tail or things just explode whenever I'm around. Nothing strange has ever happened to me, if you don't count the fact that my eyes are straight black instead of the usual blue or brown. Other than that, I'm a regular teenage boy. I skateboard, hurt myself, hang out with friends, the usual. I don't have any weird powers or anything," I mumbled to myself, talking to the pillow. I tend to talk to myself, and make up random invisible friends so that I can make people laugh.

All the sudden, I heard my parents talking very loudly. I picked up my head out of the pillow to see if maybe I could make out some of the words. My door opened and my big brother, Shane, walked in, closing my door behind him. He sat on my bed next to me, neither of us saying anything. This was a regular routine for us whenever they started arguing, which was getting to be more and more lately. Shane's room was right next to the living room, so the fights were always the loudest for him, but my room was the farthest away, so he'd always come in my room. He looked at me, with my depressed look and the pillow in my hands, so he knew that something was up, that the argument probably had to do with me.

"Colt, what happened? I know this is because of you, but why?" he asked, confused. Shane was 2 years older than me, but I still always knew more about what was going on than he did. I just shook my head because I didn't know what to say. I, too, knew it was my fault, but why would they argue about me now that they told me?

"Man, I know they told you something important. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but, I kinda want to know what is going on," Shane explained and I saw a slight glint of hope in his eyes. But before I could answer, my door opened again and Dad walked in, with Mom trailing behind, her face tear-streaked. Shane saw this, too, because he got up and gave her a hug before he went back to his room. Once Shane left, they came in and closed my door. I guess Dad had won the argument because he was looking like a general after a battle, proud that he won, but sad over the loss of life. He pulled my chair out from my desk to the edge of my bed. I was curled up in the middle of my bed, and I knew there was bad news coming because my stomach gave a strong lurch when I glanced into his eyes. I would sometimes get these feelings about things like this and they were almost always right. He sat on the chair backwards, a sure sign that something was wrong. Dad had grown up in an aristocratic family and was always composed, he never sat backwards like he did that day.

"Colt, your mother and I have had the talk about telling you for a long time now, and now that you know, we think it would be best for you if you went to a school where you could meet people like you... different, instead of living in a world where differences such as yours aren't accepted by most. I've met with a man who runs a school like that and he says that it will help you to learn to harness your... powers. We believe that this will be best for you. Mr. Kinny has agreed to come and get you on Saturday, so you have 3 days to prepare for the move," Dad warned me. I couldn't believe that this was happening to me, now. I mean, a couple of weeks ago, maybe I could've dealt with it, but not when I finally got friends and I was staying out of trouble and getting better at skateboarding, and this is how they repaid me?! I'd been behaving under the threat of getting sent to military school, but when I started behaving, they send me to a different school, one that's probably as bad as military school. Actually, when I thought about it, I would've rathered to go to military school than some 'freak' school where people probably didn't even know what the real world was like.

"But, Dad, no one else knows. I'm not being made fun of, I've finally learned how to do sweet tricks on my board, plus you promised that if I behaved, you wouldn't send me away at all. I think this counts as being sent away, don't you?" I replied, hoping that maybe I could change his mind, not Mom's, because I knew she didn't agree with him. It was obvious that I hadn't changed anything by the way he shook his head and gazed down at the floor, trying not to meet my eyes. Wait a minute. Mom didn't agree, I could use that!

"Mom, please, you know how I've been doing. You know I'll be fine here, it's not like I'm using my so-called 'powers' against anybody. I mean, I don't even know what kind of powers I have. This could all be a hoax, ya never know. It's probably just to get you guys to spend your money on some school that doesn't even exist," I warned them, switching tactics to the sore subject of money when Mom didn't respond to my begging. I could tell that Dad wasn't happy when I mentioned the money. He had been having trouble finding a job since he was laid off. I wasn't going to win this argument, I could see that. But I was not gonna give in. No way.

"Colt, you're going to this school, like it or not. You don't have a say in it. End of discussion," Dad replied, a stern look on his face. I knew better than to keep arguing when he had that look on his face. So, maybe I was gonna give in. But it wasn't up to me, no matter what I said. I sighed in surrender and fell backwards on my bed, then realized the pillow was in my hands, not on the bed. I groaned and threw the pillow over my face, signaling to my parents that I was done, no more arguing or lecturing. I felt Dad get off my bed and heard Mom crying softly as the door opened and closed again, cutting off Dad's whispers to reassure Mom. I waited for a minute, knowing it would come any second...

"Hey, Colt, you ok, man?" I heard Shane whisper through the crack in the door.

"It's safe to come in, I'm not going crazy, throwing things or anything like that," I told him. The door creaked in protest from overuse as he slid it open. I pulled the pillow off my face and gave him a depressed look as he closed the door. He hopped onto my bed, avoiding my gaze as he rocked back and forth as he often did when he wanted me to tell him something. I sighed and sat up, my back up against the wall.

"Shane, if you really want to know, I'm supposedly a mutant and Mom and Dad are sending me off to some freak school so I'll 'learn about myself', like this is even true. I warned them that this is probably a hoax and Dad just got mad at me. Not like that's rare, but, still...," I explained to him. He looked at me like I was insane, almost the same as the look I'd given Dad a few minutes before.

"You're kidding, right, Colt? I mean, that's pretty insane, even for our parents. And that's sayin' something," he asked, his eyes wide. I started laughing and he jumped at me and starting tickling me. I tried to tell him to stop, but I couldn't breath through the laughter and I couldn't see with the tears streaming down my face.

"Boys, stop it. Now," Dad's stern, harsh voice cut into our 'brother moment'. We hadn't heard him come in through our laughter. We glanced up at him, then looked at each other. Shane sighed. I fell back onto my pillow and wiped my eyes of the momentary joy I'd felt, having a brother who actually worried about me when I needed him to and ignored me when I wanted him to. Dad's anger had no place in a friendship like ours, but it was there, no matter what. Shane sensed that I was about to get yelled for something and got up to leave, but Dad stopped him. I sat up, knowing a lecture was soon to come.

"Shane, have a seat. Colt, listen up. Mr. Kinny will be here in three days, like I told you. During that time, Colt, you won't be going to school and Shane, you aren't to say a word about your brother's condition to anyone, do you boys understand me?" Dad explained. My 'condition'? He talked as if it was curable, unrelated to him and not genetic. I was very confused and upset. No school? But I couldn't wait to get back. This had been the longest weekend of my life and I needed something to keep me busy. But, then again, I knew Dad's temper too well to argue. I nodded meekly, following Shane's example.

"Good. Now, Shane, get back to your room and Colt, the phone is off limits. I'm expecting a call. Shane, I was thinking now," Dad told him, seeing that Shane had been hanging around, trying to avoid leaving. At that command, he shuffled over to my door. As he got to it, he turned around and shot me a depressed look behind Dad's back. He gave me a mock salute and left. I tried to talk to Dad, to convince him that I would be fine here, but my voice was gone. I guess the venom in Dad's eyes does that. Dad silently spun around on his heel and began towards the door, but before he reached it, he remembered something. He turned back around and walked over to my nightstand and reached behind it, unplugging my phone. 'No! Not the phone. Please, Dad, I've never done anything wrong. Well, lately, but, still, you don't have to treat me like a prisoner,' my mind screamed, but my voice hadn't returned to me yet, so I could only watch as Dad took the phone and strolled into the hall. I collapsed back onto my bad, my eyes burning with the tears of pain and hurt that Dad had caused in this past... wow, it's only been a half-hour? Oh, well, I hope Shane comes back. He'll understand, Dad yells at him a lot, too. Wait, what's that sound? I bolted up in my bed, listening closely. Oh, no, I know that sound...

"Dad! Dad, don't lock me in here, please! Please! I promise, I'll do anything; I'll never hang out with my friends again! I'll-I swear, Dad, just don't lock me in here!" I begged as I sprang to the door, pounding on it. I slid down the door as I heard Dad walking away, ignoring my pleas, no matter what I promised. The tears that I'd been trying to blink back earlier came out and I didn't even bother tryng to stop them this time. I know it was useless. My room, my perfect room full of posters and music and memories, had become my cold, evil dungeon. I crawled over to my CD rack and picked out the angriest, craziest CD, ICP, in there. I reached up to my dresser and pulled myself up with one hand, holding my CD with the other. My face burned from the hot tears running down my face, not held back at all now. I opened the top of my CD player, glanced at the CD in there quickly before I pulled it out and shoved my ICP CD in there in the other's place. I grabbed my bookbag, unzipping it quickly and pulling my portable CD player out, I yanked my headphones off and jammed the end into the other CD player forcefully. I pressed play and collapsed onto my bed for the millionth time today. I relaxed as the music flowed, mirroring my anger at my dad while I listened, hoping I wouldn't do anything stupid to Dad whenever he finally let me out of my room. While I relaxed, I tried to figure out what kind of powers I could have. I'd never done anything really strange that could be a hidden power. I concentrated really hard to see if maybe I could make something happen. I let my anger at Dad be a starting point. Maybe anger could make it come out. I closed my eyes and thought about making Dad pay for this. That wasn't what I'd planned, but that's what came to mind, so I just let it come. All of the sudden, I got a weird sensation in my hands. I forced myself to open my eyes, because I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. As my eyes opened, I supressed a gasp. I saw an amazing sight; my hands were on fire, yet I couldn't feel a thing! As I watched the flames, my heartbeat slowed and my mind emptied of everything except content. Mom had always told me that I was a pyromaniac, but she forgot to mention why. I heard someone walking down the hall toward my room. My heart jumped and the flames went out. I stared at my hands, wondering if I'd just imagined the fire that was there moments ago. I listened as I heard Dad talking to someone, but I couldn't make out the second voice, even when I strained, so I gave up, just thinking on my bed. Wait, how can I hear Dad? I leaned over on my elbow to my dresser and turned the volume on my CD player all the way up. Still nothing. I sat up and looked at the player angrily, like that would change anything. Oh, duh, I was end the end of the CD. I hit play again as I heard the key in my door lock. I flipped over and shoved my face into my pillow, so I could ignore him when Dad came in.


End file.
